Page 37 of Blazing Embers

Until you can see past the hate, anger, pain, and purge your incessant thirst for revenge, I’m sorry, Ruslan, but I can’t in good faith name you full Dragunov Elder.My grandfather’s words echo through my head.If I die before I think you are ready, it will be up to my most trusted adviser to determine when you are.

That had infuriated me. I’d blown up at the man and accused him of being a weak coward. His granddaughter, daughter-in-law, son-in-law, and then his own daughter had been killed right in front of him. But he’d refused to take up arms against the Mirochins. No. He thought there was another way. A better way that was already put into action. I had asked him what way that was. Were we going to sit around a table and negotiate? That had gotten us nowhere in decades. It had just put us further beneath the boot of the Mirochins and Russian military.

“My grandfather was weak and thought his words would make the difference. Negotiation, patience, and strategy were the key.” My voice drops to a mockery of his. “Look, I loved my grandfather. I know he was a good man. But he was brow beaten and thought that busting down walls wasn’t the way to go. There were other, less invasive ways of getting around walls.” My teeth grind together. “So stop the bullshit about my grandfather having any sort of secret guard. He thought any military or even private security in the village would create tension with the Mirochins.” I shake my head. “I know General Morozov was trying to talk my grandfather up to me by lying about the man ordering him to restore the Dragunov Guard.”

“If that’s what you think, then you really didn’t know your grandfather at all,” she snarls. I’ve hit a nerve. Was this woman in love with my late grandfather? “He was a great man and a true leader just like his father before him.”

“My grandfather died of heart failure. His father was a hero that was executed in the village square giving his life for his people.”

“Well, I’m running out of time.” The woman’s voice is now filled with impatience. “And as you’re intent on trying to screw up decades of work, it’s time you proved you are worthy of the title of The Dragunov.”

“I don’t need to prove shit.” My lips curl in a sneer. “That title’s mine and I doubt very much anyone in the village will contest it. I’ve already claimed it and after my wedding ceremony, I will claim the insignia of the Dragunov and receive the dragon’s breath on my forehead.”

I feel her lean closer again. “Let me put it his way.” Her voice has dropped and now there is a cool deadly ring to it. “There will be no wedding ceremony, claiming of the insignia, or mark of the dragon’s breath untilIsee you prove you’re ready to claim that honor.” She leans closer and the subtle scent of an expensive perfume wafts over me. “You see, Ruslan, I’m the advisor your grandfather trusted with your fate.”

“You’re lying!”

“When my man drops you off, he will show you proof that I’m not.” She moves away. “In the envelope beside you is a clue to a question that has burned inside you for fourteen years. The way you handle the information you’ve been given is your first test.” She gives a soft snort. “And for the record, your grandfather never went around anything. But he didn’t have to go smashing through it either. There are many ways to get something done and just because you play the long game doesn’t make you weak. It shows your strength.” The car stops. “I hope you realize that revenge really is a dish best served cold.”

The door opens and I think I’m going to be hauled out but she steps out. “Take him back to the clinic and ensure none of Clyde’s connections get through.”

“Yes, my lady,” the deep voice answers.

“You have forty-eight hours,” the woman leans back into the car to tell me. “Don’t make me regret going against those cronies in the village. If you want me to trust you with someone as precious as Tara… This is your chance.”

“What if I refuse?” My head turns toward the open door. “Like I said, I don’t have to have yours or the elder’s permission. That title is my birthright.”

“That title is the birthright of a Dragunov,” she corrects me. “You have twin brothers and sisters.”

Before I can correct her that I have twin brothers and a sister I sense that she’s gone. The hood is ripped off my head and my cable ties cut. I turn and we’re right back where I was grabbed from.

“I have my car,” I hiss at the chauffeur.

“Your car was taken to the clinic,” the man tells me. “You can’t drive for an hour or so.”

“The fuck I can’t.”

He produces a needle with clear liquid in it. “After I give you the antidote you will feel a little weak.”

“Antidote?” My nerves start to zing.

“The hood had a poison on it that you inhaled,” the man tells me. “Just a precaution to ensure you didn’t try anything stupid like snap your cable ties and jump from the vehicle.”

“How do I know that’s not poison?” I eye the syringe with mistrust.

“I don’t have orders to kill you… yet.” He looks at me deadpan. “Now if you will let me inject you, there is only about five minutes left before the poison spreads through your system.”

“Inject away.” My jaw clamps. That fucking bitchisthe Black Widow. But why would the Black Widow be my grandfather’s most trusted advisor? I shake my head and that’s when I feel it. A fire starting to spread in veins and a weird sensation at the back of my throat. “Where do you inject that?”

“Neck.”

I drop my head to my shoulder and he injects me with surprising precision as I hardly feel it. He produces a cotton swab for me to press against the pinprick. “There are fresh bottles of water in the mini fridge. You’re going to feel like you’ve been in the desert for days in a few moments.”

“Great.” My eyes turn to the mini fridge and the half opened bottle of water balanced on the armrest where I presume the venomous bitch was sitting. An idea springs into my head. I can get DNA off that bottle but before the man closes the door he reaches in as if reading my mind and takes the bottle.

“We’ll be on our way now.” He closes the door.

He didn’t lie about the thirst or the feeling that washes over my limbs. As I glug down a bottle of gold water, my eyes land on the envelope beside me and are drawn to the handwriting on it—my heart lurches.

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